Poetical recreations consisting of original poems, songs, odes, &c. with several new translations : in two parts
TO MY Much-esteemed Friend Mr. I. N. ON HIS Reading the first line of PINDAR 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉, &c.
HOld, there's enough, nay 'tis o'er mickle,
'Tis worse than Cant in Conventicle.
Is this the much-fam'd Friend to th' Muses,
Who thus their Helicon abuses?
Whose praise on Water thus is wasted,
Claret the Puppy never tasted:
What the Devil was his humour,
To raise so scandalous a rumour?
'Tis well 'tis Greek, that few may know it,
Or 'twere enough t' infect a Poet:
It is High Treason (I'll aver it)
Against the Majesty of Claret.
Sternhold and Hopkins heard it said so,
(Not that I believe they read so)
Therefore they gorg'd their Muse with Water,
And spew'd up eke, and also after.
To bouze Old Wine, mad Pindar wonted,
Till by a Vintner being affronted,
The peevish Cur (what could be ruder?)
Forc'd on us 〈 in non-Latin alphabet 〉.
He Water's damn'd Encomium made,
Maliciously to spoil his Trade.
But that shan't pass on me, by th' Mass•
If I drink Water, I'm an Ass.
To two great Kings I will be Loyal,
My Monarch Iames, and Claret-Royal:
Nor shall I love that Greek of thine,
Scarce any Greek, except Greek Wine.
Who'd be of Old mad Timon's mind,
(Because he did) to hate Mankind?
No, Soveraign Claret, I'll adore thee,
Submissively fall down before thee;
And will by Whores be burnt to Tinder,
If I adore that Rebel Pindar.
Yours, I. Whitehall.